


The Spotted Leopard

by alphafemale92



Category: Moulin Rouge! (2001), Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, moulin rouge alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4614900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphafemale92/pseuds/alphafemale92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Moulin Rouge AU/JeanMarco.  That gives it away i guess, not much else to say.</p>
<p>Warning: I used the Moulin Rouge script so a lot of the dialogue is from the movie.  So please no hate.  I tried to capture both sides so there is a little bit of ooc on certain characters, mainly Erwin.  Sorry about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bohemians

**Author's Note:**

> So I've really wanted to do this for a while and have a writer's block on the other piece I'm working on so here it is. Comments and Kudos are welcomed. Thanks for reading

Trost 1900  
Connie used to sing on the rooftops late at night when he was so drunk on absinthe that he couldn’t tell reality from fiction. He believed the green fairy on the bottle came to life and that he was in a relationship with her. He referred to her as Sasha. I hadn’t a clue what he spoke of, I thought he was off his rocker for the most part. Besides, I only allowed myself to get lost in absinthe once and I didn’t think the fairy was that beautiful. Not in comparison to him, but he comes later. Back to what I was talking about before. Connie loved to sing on the rooftops and tonight of all nights he was singing about me, again.  
“There was a boy. A very strange enchanted boy. They say he wandered very far. Very far. A little shy and sad of eye. But very wise. Was he and then one day. A magic day. He passed my way. And while we spoke of many things, fools and kings. This he said to me, the greatest thing you’ll ever learn is to be loved and love in return.” His singing reminds me of when I first came to Trost. Upon exiting the train, young and full of optimism, I was met with a priest screaming of sin in the streets. He turned to me and glared at my lone suitcase and positive demeanor.  
“Turn away from this village of sin, for it’s a veritable Sodom and Gomorrah.” I laughed in the man’s face. No city could be that bad. How wrong I could be. For within the time I spent in Trost I witnessed all manner of sins but yet I still stay. Then again I have nothing to leave and nothing to stay for, I am simply a depressed half existence of a man. But I was not always that way. For I was a happy man, and it was all because of the Moulin Rouge. What a cliché.  
The Moulin Rouge. A nightclub. A dance hall and a bordello ruled over by Erwin Smith. That man is one for his own story. A man of greed and lust, a veritable sin in himself. But this story isn’t about him or his poor decisions. This is a story of love. A story that took place in a kingdom of nighttime pleasures, where the rich and powerful went to play with the young and beautiful creatures of the underworld. The most handsome of all was the man I loved. Marco Bodt. A courtesan, he sold his love to the highest bidder. A true sin, and yet I loved him anyway. For who am I to blame him for his life when it was all he knew. They called him ‘the spotted leopard’ because he was covered from head to toe in freckles, and he was the star of the Moulin Rouge. However, the man I loved, love, is dead.  
I stop writing for a moment and look out my window, I can see the Moulin Rouge in the distance and swear I can hear Erwin Smith’s booming voice advertising for tonight’s show. But that is impossible for the Moulin Rouge is just a shell of a building now. No dancers. No guests. No Erwin Smith. But most of all no Marco. I couldn’t help but let a sob slip. I still wasn’t over him, I never will be. He was my first and only love and I feel as if I am half the man without him. I finally stop my sobs after a few moments of deep breathing like a small child stopping a tantrum. I sit down to begin writing again.  
I first came to Trost one year ago. It was 1899, the summer of love. I knew nothing of the Moulin Rouge, Erwin Smith, or Marco. All I knew was that the world had been swept up in the bohemian revolution, and I had traveled all the way from Shiganshina to be a part of it. On a hill near Utopia was the village of Trost. It didn’t seem to be the village my father had described to me so many times as, “a village of sin!” But rather it seemed to be a village of adventure. The center of the bohemian world. Musicians, painters, writers. They were known as ‘the children of the revolution.’ Yes, I had come to live a penniless existence, I had come to write about truth, beauty, freedom, and that which I believed in above all things—love. However my father thought that it was a waste as well, calling it my ‘ridiculous obsession. There was only one problem, I’d never been in love!

Trost 1899  
I sat in front of my brand new typewriter, but I couldn’t think of anything to write. How am I supposed to write of love without having felt love? It was a great injustice. I groaned sitting back. The page would remain bare until I figured out how the hell to write about love which may in fact be a long time. I sat back, angrily staring at my typewriter, willing it to start the story on its own, of course it didn’t. What a dumb thing to think that it would. I slip my hands into my hair pulling at the long strands on top. I had thought that writing would be easier than this. Hell, I thought it’d be as simple as breathing but it’s far from it. To best write about something you have to have experience with something. And I had experience with nothing.  
At the moment when I feel as if I’m giving up hope already, a crash occurred. Resulting in a giant, blond man hanging through my ceiling by his ankle. Which as I looked up, I could see was wrapped in a rope. To top everything off he was unconscious. I jumped from my chair unsure what to do, but I didn’t have very long to ponder. My door burst open after a single knock to reveal a short, really ugly, bald man, wearing a nun costume made out of mismatched clothes and a potato sack for a dress. I was now thoroughly overwhelmed. The short man waddled over to the unconscious giant tapping him on the shoulder.  
“How do you do, man? My name is Connie ‘The Great’ Springer.” He bowed his nose nearly touching the floor, the veil hiding his face. He stood up once more, his hand once again on the giant’s shoulder.  
“What?” was all I could manage to say. He didn’t seem phased by my lack of words, instead he just continued on like I hadn’t said anything.  
“I’m terribly sorry about all this. We were rehearsing a play.”  
“What?” I asked again but once more he ignored me.  
“A play, it’s something very modern, we’re calling it Spectacular, Spectacular.” I could grasp all of this even if it was all coming out of Connie’s mouth at rapid fire. “It takes place in Mitras,” he added as if it mattered to me. “Unfortunately, Reiner here,” he pushed the giant back and forth so he swung slightly on his roped ankle, “suffers from a sickness called narcolepsy. He’s perfectly fine one moment and then,” he made a ridiculous snoring noise, “unconscious the next.” Connie laughed rather odd and obnoxiously. I couldn’t take in what was going on, and to make things worse three more men were added to the picture the next moment.  
“How is he?” a high pitched, but still male, voice came from the hole in my ceiling. They three men looking down at Reiner were soon introduced to me as Armin, Eren, and Bertholdt. There are a few things to know about each man. Firstly, the high pitched voice belonged to Armin. What a character he is. He is a short man, not quite as short as Connie but not very big, that had an awful blond bowl cut, bright blue eyes and a pale complexion. He was a rather anxious young man who was flamboyant but most importantly he was the writer of Spectacular, Spectacular, or at least he was. Next to him was Eren. Now this guy is really a joke, brilliant but a joke. He wrote all the music for the play however he’s a bit on the angry side. With wild brown hair and bright angry green eyes, he is a character, an annoying one. Finally there was Bertholdt. In all honest, besides being Reiner’s best friend I still can’t figure out what he actually adds to the group but to each their own. He was tall, even taller than Reiner, but he was thin with short cropped brown hair and a gentle demeanor. Anyway, they were staring down through the hole at us and I can admit this wasn’t one of my best moments because I wanted to hide or something along those lines because I was really overwhelmed by the whole situation. “Wonderful,” Armin squawked, he squawked a lot, “Now that Reiner is unconscious. The scenario will not be finished in time to present to the financier tomorrow.” He threw his hands up in the air like the little drama queen he was. In my opinion, he was making a huge deal out of a little road block, but what do I know. I didn’t write plays at the time. Hell I couldn’t write anything at the time.  
“He’s right, Connie. I still have to finish the music,” Eren added with a slight growl. He was staring at Reiner as if everything was the giants fault. I couldn’t see how that was possible if it was a medical issue. But Connie didn’t seem the bit worried. Instead he began to grin widely.  
“We just have to find someone to read the part,” he replied. I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. But Armin didn’t seem convinced.  
“Where in heavens name are we going to find someone to read the part of a young sensitive Mitras poet, goat herder?” Connie looked over at me and I automatically shook my head no. I was here to write I wasn’t here to get involved in someone else’s play.  
“We only need a stand in for today. Reiner will be fine to present to the financier.” Connie walked closer to me and I took a step back.  
“I don’t know if that horse face could stand in for Reiner, he isn’t exactly the image we painted,” Eren added. That really pissed me off, I don’t like being called horse face. But Connie cut him off.  
“He is just a stand in for today.” They didn’t give me any choice. They all stared at me, Connie walking closer and closer until I bumped into the wall unable to walk any further back. “Will you, um what’s your name?”  
“Jean,” I automatically answered without thinking. It was only fair since I knew all their names.  
“Will you, Jean, stand in for Reiner so that we can finish writing our play?” I looked from Connie, who was grinning like a loon, up to the other three where Armin and Eren were frown and Bertholdt was sweating nervously. I took a second to think, what would it really hurt if I stood in for Reiner for one day. It isn’t like they asked me to be a permanent part of the play. I nodded my agreement and was soon swept up into Connie’s studio.


	2. The Hills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Here is chapter two a lot faster than I thought. But here it is. I apologize in advance if I don't get updates out very fast, I work two jobs.
> 
> Please comment and Kudos. Thanks

Before I knew it, I was handed a poorly scratched script that was barely legible, and dressed up in putrid green lederhosen. I kept reminding myself I was only doing this for a day. I was just being nice. To stay with the theme of being nice, I could say that their script could use some work. But to be perfectly honest the script sucked, it sucked big time. There was no consensus among any of it and it didn’t help that Armin and Eren had different ideas of the direction of the play. In all honesty, it was like reading six or more plays at once.  
“The hills animate with the euphonious symphonies of descant,” Connie sang in a rather shrill tone. He laughed a little afterwards. It sounded as if he was trying to sound like a woman, which would explain the outfit. But obviously Armin didn’t like how things were going.  
“Oh, stop, stop! Stop, stop, stop, stop! Stop that insufferable droning. It’s drowning out my words. Eren, I know you can stick to decorative piano. Can you please do that here? You’re brilliance can be showcased elsewhere.” There was an evident artistic difference between Armin’s lyrics and Eren’s songs and yet there still was an understanding between them. Honestly I couldn’t understand why they were all working together because no one seemed to see eye to eye on the play. The more I heard the worse my feeling that this was a waste of time was reassured.  
“I don’t think a nun would say that about a hill,” Bertholdt added, as if the situation would get better by adding more controversy.  
“What if he sings, ‘the hills are vital, intoning the descant?” Eren added, which frankly was the worst suggestion.  
“No, no. the hills quake and shake—“Connie started but Bertholdt cut him off.  
“No, no, no, no. The hills—“Bertholdt started again but Reiner gained consciousness at that moment.  
“The hills are incarnate with symphonic melodies!” They all stared at Reiner and watched as he fell unconscious once more. Everyone was silent for a moment. It is still strange to me that this was just a normal occurrence. At least he was lying in a bed this time.  
“No,” Bertholdt finally replied to the unconscious man. And then chaos overtook the room as everyone tried to talk over one another. Of course this is when I would happen to get my idea. Always happens in the middle of chaos.  
“No, the hill…” Connie started  
“The hills,” I started but Connie cut me off. I was only mildly pissed about that.  
“The hills…”  
“Are chanting the eternal mantra,” Bertholdt cut him off. That wasn’t the worst idea. But it was ignored of course.  
“Shadis is living in my foot,” Eren blurted out of nowhere. I looked over at him as everyone continued to argue. He was so far gone I’d be surprised if he even knew what was going on as he was muttering to his bare foot in his lap. I decided if I was to be heard I should make myself noticed so I climbed the ladder they had next to their crappy cardboard cutout of a mountain, if it could be called a mountain.  
“The hills,” I start to wave my arms to get their attention. But everyone was so engrossed in themselves that there was no way I would get their attention. So I decided the only way to get their attention was to sing, which now sounds like a stupid idea. I didn’t even want to be a part of this to begin with. But yet I still wanted to be heard. “The hills are alive with the sound of music.” That got their attention. They immediately fell silent and Reiner became was conscious once more.   
“Whoa! The hills are alive with the sound of music! I love it!” Reiner nearly screamed, scaring me a little bit. But in the same moment I sighed in relief, at least someone liked my suggestion.  
“The hills are alive with the sound of music,” Bertholdt, Connie, and Eren chanted to themselves over a few times. Eren turned to me with a manic grin.  
“It fits perfectly,” he admitted. I didn’t like the guy but at least he admitted when someone else had a good idea. Well, I had better than a good idea.  
“With songs they have sung for a thousand years,” I sang more. They all gasped looking at me.  
“Incandiferous! Armin, you and Jean should write the show together,” Connie stated. However, Armin looked as if he’d been slapped.  
“I beg your pardon?” he asked with a frown that would make children cry.  
“You should write the show with Jean. It’d be brilliant,” Connie laughed. He acted as if this was the simplest thing in the world. Well, Connie’s suggestion that we co-write the play was not what Armin wanted to hear at all. I felt as if I missed something because the next thing I knew, Armin was packing his things and heading out the door.  
“Goodbye,” he shrilly proclaimed before slamming the door behind himself. Connie turned to me with a huge grin on his face and a bottle of absinthe in his hand. He didn’t seem all that bothered at Armin’s departure.  
“Here’s to your first job in Trost.” He took a sip straight from the bottle. Eren didn’t seem to hold the same opinion as Connie. He stepped closer to Connie, his back to me.  
“Connie, Erwin will never agree to this.” He looked up at me. “No offense,” it sounded rather offensive, “But have you ever written anything like this before?”  
“Well, no,” I admitted honestly, shaking my head slightly. This didn’t seem to bother Reiner in the slightest because at that moment he decided to walk over to me.  
“The boy has natural talent!” He reached to place his hand on my shoulder, forgetting that I was on the ladder, so instead his hand awkwardly landed on my crotch. Being me, I had no idea what to do. “I like him!” Luckily, Reiner noticed the placement of his hand and pulled it away. “Nothing funny. I just like talent.” Connie, Bertholdt, and Eren turned on me walking towards me. I swore I was being ganged up on.  
“The hills are alive with the sound of music,” Connie chanted as they got closer and closer. They then grabbed Reiner pulling him into a huddle right in front of me. To say I was a bit angry that they were talking about me just feet away was an underestimation but I was just too overwhelmed to do anything about it.  
“See Eren,” Connie bragged, “With Jean we can write the truly bohemian revolutionary show that we’ve always dreamt of.” I don’t know about that. I wasn’t exactly a protégé or anything, I came up with one good line. Maybe I could come up with a few but nothing that I would call revolutionary.  
“But how will we convince Erwin?” He sounded unconvinced himself but I couldn’t really hold it against him. I would’ve been unconvinced in his situation as well. But as usual Connie had a plan, he always seemed to have a plan.  
“Marco,” he stated plainly. I didn’t have a clue who or what Marco was. But then they turned so that he was addressing everyone. “We’ll dress Jean up in Reiner’s best suit, because I have a feeling you don’t have a nice suit,” he looked me up in down. I shook my head no, I had no reason to lie to them. “We will pass him off as a famous Shiganshina writer.” I couldn’t help grinning at that. It’s all I wanted, famous writer that is, I didn’t have a clue where Shiganshina was. “Once Marco has heard his modern poetry, he will be astounded and will convince Erwin to let Jean write Spectacular, Spectacular,” Connie explained it in a way that made me excited about the idea as well. That was until I heard my father’s voice in the back of my head, ‘You’ll end up wasting your time at the Moulin Rouge with a cancan dancer!’ I immediately jumped back from them wide-eyed. Connie grinned at me childishly, still holding the bottle of absinthe.  
“No, I can’t write the show for the Moulin Rouge!” I turned to run towards the hole in the floor, where Reiner had originally fallen into my garret, attempting to leave.  
“Why not?” Connie got in my way. I felt like a cornered animal and all I wanted to do was flee.  
“I don’t even know if I am a true bohemian revolutionary.” It was partially the truth. I also didn’t want my father’s expectations of me to come true. How was I to gain any respect in his eyes if I was working for the Moulin Rouge.  
“What?” Connie looked at Eren and Bertholdt in surprise. “Do you believe in beauty?”  
“Yes,” that was a no brainer  
“Freedom?” Reiner asked.  
“Yes, of course.” Again, a no brainer.  
“Truth?” Eren added.  
“Yes.” This all seemed to simple.  
“Love?” Bertholdt finally added.   
“Love? Love.” This was it, maybe I was a bohemian revolutionary. “Above all things, I believe in love. Love is like oxygen, love is a many splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love!” They all just stared at me as if I were a god. All I did was speak what I believed was true. As lame as it sounded it was what I believed at the time to be true. And then Connie started laughing again. He seemed to do that a lot and it was slightly unnerving.  
“See, you can’t fool us. You’re the voice of the children of the revolution,” Connie stated matter of factly.  
“We can’t be fooled!” The others added.  
“Let’s drink to the new writer of the world’s first bohemian revolutionary show!” Connie obnoxiously lifted a glass of absinthe to his lips and took it in one gulp. We had the perfect plan, I was to audition for Marco, but first I would taste my first glass of absinthe. The bottle had a green fairy on it. And soon enough she did come to life, and flew around us. It was a wonderous thing what alcohol could do to one’s perception of reality.  
“I’m the green fairy, Sasha.” She winked. I watched as she danced about repeatedly touching Connie. She started singing my lyrics. “The hills are alive with the sound of music.” Everyone joined in. And we started laughing drunkenly as Sasha sexily danced for us. We all started to sing.  
“Freedom. Beauty. Truth. And love. No, you won’t fool the children of the revolution. No you won’t fool the children of the revolution.” I soon passed out but woke up, surprisingly sober just a few hours later. And then we were off to the Moulin Rouge, where I was to perform my poetry for Marco.


	3. The Spotted Leopard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean finally meets Marco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so this is the last of the chapters I had prewritten. So the next few updates will probably take a lot longer. I hope you enjoy. I really wanted to finally get Marco into the story.

And so we arrived at the Moulin Rouge and what a sight it was. There were people everywhere, dancing and having a good time. There was Erwin Smith standing above the stage, a tall man with blond hair, bushy eyebrows, and a control over the situation that otherwise seemed chaotic. Then there were his infamous dancers, they called them the diamond dogs. And what a sight they were. Decked out in spangles and all manners of gems and fabrics, they glittered like the things they were named after. Scantily clad, I had never seen so much bare skin, I blushed because I couldn’t stop staring. They sang like angels and yet I hadn’t even seen Jesus himself yet. As they sang Erwin spoke in a booming voice above them.  
“If life’s an awful bore and living’s just a chore that we do cause death’s not much fun. I have just the antidote. And though I mustn’t gloat at the Moulin Rouge you’ll have fun. Just scratch that little niggle, have a little wiggle at the Moulin Rouge.” He watched as his dancers led the men in lustful dances with a smile. It was just overwhelming to me. All the men seemed to know the chorus as if they were a part of the show. I was overly fascinated about the whole thing that I almost forgot why we were there.  
“Here we are now. Entertain us. We feel stupid. And contagious.” The men in the audience chanted over and over again. I caught myself chanting along with them, enraptured.   
“Got some dark desire. Love to play with fire. Why not let it rip. Live a little bit,” Erwin continued. The girls picked up their skirts revealing their undergarments, I looked away embarrassed. I didn’t want to stare at them that way. The men continued to chant and the women continued to sing and it flowed together like a hypnotic song. I couldn’t help but stare everywhere trying to absorb it all. “Outside it may be raining. But in here it’s entertaining! The Moulin Rouge is the place to be.” Erwin was now down on the stage and did an impressive back flip landing with a triumphant bow. “Because we can cancan! Yes we can cancan. Outside it may be tragic. But in here we feel the magic.” The music quieted down and a rolling sign was brought out on stage. Erwin flips the sign and it rolls until it stops on the cancan. “The Cancan,” he stage whispers. Everyone scurried around preparing for the new routine. And when the music erupted, the only way to describe it was amazing. Dancers were everywhere and they all worked together. No one was out of step. It overwhelmed the senses and I was sucked in. I soon join the others on the dance floor, dancing with many beautiful and handsome cancan dancers. But sooner than later Connie and the others pull me back to a table to wait.  
“Psst! Mission accomplished we successfully evaded Erwin,” Connie announced as he sipped out of a glass. Like he needed anymore alcohol. I look up and watch Erwin on the stage. I don’t see it as that difficult to evade a man that is busy performing on stage. But if Connie wanted to consider it an accomplishment than who am I to stop him. The cancan soon quieted and the lights went out but not for long. A spot light landed on a trapeze where the most handsome man sat decorated in shimmering fabric and feathers.  
“It’s him, the spotted leopard,” Connie whispered in awe. I couldn’t speak. He was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen. He couldn’t possibly be real, but he was. And when he opened his mouth, I nearly died then and there.  
“The French are glad to die for love. They delight in fighting duels.” He laid back on the trapeze hanging upside down and I was sold. The lines of his body were perfect, he was perfect. There was no other way to describe him. “But I prefer someone who lives and gives expensive jewels.” He grinned sitting up on the trapeze. I couldn’t stop watching him. But someone else was to meet Marco that night. Erwin’s investor, Nile Dawk. And that angered me beyond anything else. But at that moment I didn’t know any better. Instead my mind was still wrapping itself around Marco and the way he leaned back causing the trapeze to swing in a large circle over the audience. “A kiss on the hand may be quite continental. But diamonds are my best friend.” The trapeze slowed down and Marco got off of it and danced across the stage. “A kiss maybe grand but it won’t pay the rental on your humble flat or help you feed your pussycat.” He winked at the audience as he sang. Every man appeared in love with the boy and I counted myself among them. “Men grow cold as we grow old. And we all lose our charms in the end. But square-cut or pearl-shaped these rocks don’t lose their shape. Diamonds are my best friend.” His voice rang above everything else and I didn’t care to see any of the other dancers but him. Nile and Erwin sat at a table not far from us. The slimy, gaunt Nile Dawk leaned in close to Erwin as he watched Marco perform.  
“When am I going to meet the boy?” he demanded.  
“After his number, I’ve arranged a special meeting. Just you and Monsieur Marco. Totally alone.” But at the same time, Connie was telling me the same things.  
“After his number, I’ve arranged a private meeting. Just you and Monsieur Marco. Totally alone.” But that wasn’t a comfortable thought. How was I to talk to something so perfect?  
“Alone?” I choked out.  
“Yes, totally alone.” My attention focused back on Marco, ignoring the idea that I would soon be alone with him. He was pushing a man to the floor, teasingly.  
“Cause we are living in a material world. And I am a material boy,” he blew kisses at the audience as he got up. “Come get me boys.” A group of men picked him up, I envied them. “Black star, roscor, talk to me Erwin Smith. Tell me all about it.” Marco was joined on stage by Erwin. “There may come a time when a lad needs a lawyer.” He placed his hand on Erwin’s shoulder.  
“Oh!!” Erwin faked surprise.  
“But diamonds are our best friends,” all the diamond dogs sang but I only had eyes for him.  
“There may come a time when a hard-boiled employer thinks your…”  
“Awful nice.” Erwin pretended to grab Marco. I was too nervous I got up to leave.  
“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’ll sally forth and tee things up!” Connie interjected. I sat back down. Connie left the table, accidently knocking into a waiter, causing a tray of drinks to fall on Nile. “Oh!” But Connie didn’t seem too concerned that he had soiled Nile.  
At the same time, Marco was concerned about his night very much. “Is Nile here, Erwin?” he leaned in close so only Erwin could hear him talk.  
“Marco, would Daddy let you down?” Erwin spun Marco around so that he could take a look into the audience. When he did, he saw Connie attempting to help Nile wiped the drinks off of himself. “Aah!” Erwin panicked slightly. He could see Connie saying sorry even from across the room. Erwin spun Marco back around to face the audience.  
“Where is he?” Marco scanned the audience not knowing who Nile even was.  
“He’s the one Connie is shaking a hanky at.” At that moment, Connie had moved away from Nile to me.  
“Excuse me Jean, may I borrow?” Connie pulled my hanky from my pocket without so much as waiting for a reply. He has a bit of a struggle having to shake it at me. This happens to be the exact moment that Marco looks up, now thinking I’m Nile.  
“Are you sure?” Marco asks Erwin one last time.  
“Let me take a peek.” They turn once more but Connie is no longer at my side. Instead he’s standing before Nile. It is obvious that Connie was pissing Nile off as he throws the hanky at the man and appears to be threatened by his bodyguards. Erwin was alarmed on the stage though from the audience no one would have been able to tell. “That’s the one, darling. I hope that demonic little loon doesn’t frighten him off.” Erwin presents Marco with a diamond necklace and he overdramatically squealed. The pair move to the center of the stage where they were surrounded by cancan dancers who lifted their skirts to give them some privacy to change.  
“Will he invest?” Marco pulls his shirt from his form. Changing quickly  
“Pumpkin! After spending the night with you, how could he refuse?”  
“What’s his type? Wilting flower?” Marco makes the saddest puppy dog face possible. “Bright and bubbly?” His eyes shin and he shoots Erwin with a gleaming, toothy grin. “Aah! Or does he prefer smoldering seducer?” he then lowers his eyelids and purrs quietly.  
“I’d say smoldering seducer. We’re all relying on you, gosling.” They finished changing to the sounds of the crowd cheering. “Remember, a real show, in a real theater, with a real audience, and you’ll be…”  
“A real actor,” Marco finished grinning. He stood and the dancers revealed him in his new outfit which was a shroud of diamonds across the top of his body and a shimmering pair of tight pants. “Cause that’s when those louses go back to their spouses.” Marco walked into the audience towards out table while he sang, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.   
“Bejeweled vision! Freckled god!” Connie called out to him trying to get his attention.  
“Diamonds are…”  
“I’ve got some exciting news!”  
“My best friend,” he walked over to me, and I stared star struck. “I believe you are expecting me,” he leaned over the table so we were a hair’s breadth apart.  
“Yes. Yes.” I sounded like an idiot but it was all I could think. He then turned to the crowd.  
“I’ve made my choice!” he announced. The crowd began to cheer as Marco pointed to me. He turned back around to face me expectantly. I didn’t know what to do, too shocked by the turn of events. He turned back to the crowd pouting. He must have thought I was rejecting him. He then turned back to me playfully pouting, then sent me a wicked grin before turning back to the crowd. He bent forward slightly and playfully shook his hips in my directions while the crowd chanted his name. He began to yelp and trill as they continued to chant his name. He began to play with the strings of diamonds that hung down by his hips.  
“I see you’ve already met my Mitras friend,” Connie shouted to Marco over the crowd.  
“I’ll take care of it, Connie,” he then turned to face me. “Let’s dance!” He reached out for both of my hands and pulled me to my feet, leading me to the dance floor.   
As we walked away I heard Connie yell to me, “Hit him with your most modern poem!” The song had changed a little angel of a girl stood on the stage singing. She was dressed head to toe in white and other pale scarves, like an Arabian dream.  
“You can feel the rhythm of the night. Dance until the morning light. You can feel the rhythm of the night. You can leave it all behind. You can feel the rhythm of the night. Dance until the morning light. You can feel the rhythm of the night. You can leave it all behind.” I didn’t really know how to dance, not like everyone else was, so I stood among the crowd for the most part watching Marco dance around me. As I picked up on the rhythm I started to tap my foot along, before I knew it the other men pushed me towards Marco, encouraging me to dance with him. The other’s watched on as I tried to dance with Marco. Soon, I gained the confidence to dance alongside him.  
“That seemed to go well,” Eren scoffed sarcastically.  
“Incredible,” Bertholdt marveled. They ignored Eren’s sarcasm  
“He has a gift with men,” Reiner commented blushing slightly.  
“I told you,” Connie commented as if this was all his idea and he intended for all of this to happen, “he’s a genius.”  
I continued to dance with Marco. The next thing I knew we were pressed up against one another. He dropped down in front of me running his hands down my body making sure he touched my most sensitive spots. I jumped in surprise but didn’t pull away. Moments later he came back up running his hands back up me. He had a way with his hands knowing just where to place them and where to squeeze, where to caress. If I hadn’t known better I would’ve sworn he was trying to seduce me. But that was a joke…or so I thought.  
Erwin, lord of the Moulin Rouge, watched from a distance as I danced with Marco. However, he thought that I was Nile not knowing Connie’s cleaver trick. “That Nile certainly can dance,” he said to no one in particular. He was so wrong, it almost makes me laugh.  
“So wonderful of you to take an interest in our little show,” Marco whispered in my ear, finally getting to the point.  
“It sounds very exciting. I’d be delighted to be involved.”  
“Really?” he sounded pleased and surprised all at once.  
“Connie thought we might be able to, um, do it in private.” Marco quirked an eyebrow at this.  
“Did he?” he asked slyly. I thought it was a bit odd. If I were to recite poetry for him wouldn’t he want it to be quiet?  
“Yes, you know, uh, a private…poetry reading.” He must have thought I meant something else for his sly grin grew even wider.  
“Ohh! Mmm, a poetry reading. Oh I love a little poetry after supper.” We continued to dance until the number was over and Marco had to perform once more. I watched as he sat again on the trapeze. “Diamonds. Diamonds. Square-cut or pear-shaped. These rocks won’t lose their shape. Diamonds are my best…” And then the world fell apart. He started to gasp for air and become unsteady on the trapeze. Within a blink of an eye he fell from the trapeze unconscious.   
“No,” Erwin’s scream could be heard over the gasps of the crowd. A short angry man, Levi, caught him before he hit the ground. He was Marco’s bodyguard. He carried Marco backstage shoving through the crowd. The crowd fell into silence. To bring back the crowd, Erwin began to yell triumphantly. He lead the crowd to believe that it was all part of Marco’s act. “Marco! Marco! Marco! Marco!” he began to chant. The rest of the diamond dogs watched as Levi lay Marco onto a couch back stage.  
“Don’t know if that Nile’s gonna get his money’s worth tonight,” Annie, a big nosed, unattractive dog laughed.  
“Don’t be unkind, Annie,” Mina, another of the dogs scolded. They both glanced at Marco one more time before leaving to dance, Mina’s eyes held compassion for the poor boy but Annie looked on with jealousy.   
The crowd was still chanting his name. Erwin looks off stage and Ymir, the stage manager, crosses her throat with her hand. Erwin sighed, “You frightened him away!” The crowd groaned in unison. I stood confused, what had happened. “But I can see some lonely Moulin Rouge dancers looking for a partner or two! So if you can Hunk-Hunk, you can Hunkadola with them!” The music started up and Erwin left the stage.  
A little red head pushed curious dancers out of the way to make it to Marco’s side. “Out of my way. Quickly.” She opened a small vial giving Marco some of the medicine. He soon awoke and started to gasp, then pant.  
“Oh Petra,” he whispered, “all these silly costumes.” But it was obvious to any onlooker it wasn’t simply the tight costume, that didn’t even constrict his chest.   
Petra turned to Ymir, “Just a little fainting spell.”  
“All right, all of you. Get back out front and make those gents thirsty,” Ymir ushered the dancers back on stage. Marco continued to pant and cough. Petra, his ever vigilant angel, held a tissue next to his mouth. When she pulled it away she gasped in horror at the sight of blood.   
But the show goes on as Marco rests and soon Nile grew tired of waiting for Marco. He impatiently tapped his foot and turned to his body guards, Marlo and Hitch, “Find Erwin. The boy is waiting for me.” His goons leave his side in search of Erwin as Nile glared down at the other dancers hungrily.  
Meanwhile, Petra fastened Marco into an intricate costume to prepare for who he thinks is Nile. Marco groaned as she pulls tighter on the costume’s strings. This costume had an intricate red corset making him look even thinner than he already was.  
“That twinkle-toes Duke has really taken the bait boy. With a patron like him, you could be the next Farlan Church.” Petra finished the laces and stepped back to admire her handy work. Marco resembled a porcelain doll, all done up in red, his freckles standing out significantly.  
“Oh, Petra, do you really think I could be like the great Farlan?”  
“Why not? You’ve got the talent. You hook Nile, and you’ll be lighting up the great stages of Europe.”  
“I’m gonna be a real actor, Petra. A great actor. I’m gonna fly away from here.” He turned to face his little caged finch. “Oh, yes, we can fly, fly away from here!” The door creaked open revealing Erwin in the doorway.  
“Duckling, is everything alright?”  
“Oh yes. Of course, Erwin.”  
“Oh thank goodness. You certainly weaved your magic with Nile on the dance floor.” Marco turned around facing Erwin, he struck a couple of poses showing off his elaborate costume.  
“How do I look, smoldering seducer,” he sent Erwin a smolder.  
“Oh, my little leopard! How could he possibly resist from gobbling you up? Everything’s going so well!”


End file.
